


Worth

by Cocoa_N_Donuts



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27763108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cocoa_N_Donuts/pseuds/Cocoa_N_Donuts
Summary: Her worth to the OCS, Beatrice knows in her heart, lies in her abilities to get her fellow sisters in and out of missions safe. She was their unofficial tactician, their strategist, the person who made sure everyone was safe, relatively unhurt, and sees that their missions are accomplished.Beatrice gets hurt and doesn't tell anyone until it's bad.
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 24
Kudos: 128





	Worth

_'Beatrice, dear, you have to perfect this piece before the governor comes over, okay? We have to impress him so Daddy and Mommy can make a good deal with him.'_

Her worth to the OCS, Beatrice knows in her heart, lies in her abilities to get her fellow sisters in and out of missions safe. She was their unofficial tactician, their strategist, the person who made sure everyone was safe, relatively unhurt, and sees that their missions are accomplished. 

So when a knife of a possessed finds purchase in her side right under her left ribs, she wastes no time in rendering the person unconscious, and slashing her divinium knife all around the unconscious body thoroughly, determined to send the wraith responsible back to the fiery pits of hell where it belonged. 

A cursory glance around reveals that no one had witnessed the little hitch in the plan. Ava flashes her a little thumbs up to show that Beatrice did in fact get the wraith-demon, and they carry on with the next part of their plan. 

The sharp burn in her side is but an inconsequential inconvenience in their plan, and Beatrice will not jeopardise the mission because she failed to dodge a blow from a possesed person. 

So when the others were preoccupied with wayfinding in the Roman Catacombs, and Beatrice was sure no one was looking, she pulls the knife out of her side, readjusts her utility belt to cover the gaping hole on her left, and tightens the belt to apply constant pressure on her wound so she wouldn't bleed out prematurely or aggravate her wound any further. 

They succeed in clearing a secret crypt full of divinium weapons that would be crucial in their war against Adriel and Vincent. Mustering all her remaining strength, she carries all that she can-- another divinium sword, a shield, and several daggers. 

She cannot be a burden. She _must not_. 

As her legs threaten to buckle under her when she flees the scene of the crime with her fellow sisters, Ava chose the worst possible time to be perceptive. But that was part of the woman's charm, Beatrice supposes. 

'Bea, you're panting hard, are you okay?'

'Yeah,' she replies through gritted teeth, 'It's just pretty heavy.' 

'I can help with that! I'm really strong with the halo, I bet I can carry _you_ and the divinium, Bea!' 

'Ava, please. Focus on the mission, and conserve the halo's energy in case we meet with any hostiles or road blocks. We're not out of the woods yet. I can handle my load.'

Ava shoots her another suspicious look at her tone, but acquiesces.

_'Pack your bags, you're going to the Institut Le Rosey in Switzerland. If you can't be_ normal _, Beatrice, you might as well be_ useful _. That might as well be all you're worth.'_

The insidious voice of her Mother again rang in her head, echoed by similar sentiments expressed by her teachers, even a few sisters in the OCS. Her worth lies in her abilities, what she can bring to the group, what she can contribute to her sisters, and Beatrice would rather bleed out and die than to be a liability to her new found family. 

Beatrice only allows herself to relax when she is huddled in the back of the OCS van and Camila shoots out of the parking lot like a scene from Tokyo Drift.

Only then does she realise that she had left a trail of bloody footprints from the crypt all the way to the floor of the van, and she's now sitting in a sticky pool of her blood. 

She looks down, and even in her addled state, she can tell that the amount of blood gushing out of her stab wound is not good. In a daze, she touches where the blood from her wound had seeped through her belt and soaked through her habit and ran down her boot. She pulls her hand away and it's covered in her own blood, now scalding to her fingertips. 

She's cold. Far too cold. 

The divinium weapons and shield slips from her grasp and clatters noisily to the floor of the van. 

'Beatrice!'

Beatrice looks up to the horrified wide eyes of Ava already rushing towards her as the edges of her vision flickers, there's a roar in her ears, and she sinks into the cool embrace of unconciousness. 

**Author's Note:**

> I might write a second part to this. What do you think? Love it, hate it? Please let me know!


End file.
